


Knock Knock

by TimidTurnip



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, New Year's Eve, Wade Wilson Being an Idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28459791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimidTurnip/pseuds/TimidTurnip
Summary: There's a knock at the door.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 25
Kudos: 239
Collections: Isn't it Bromantic- Holiday Bingo 2020, Isn't it Bromantic?





	Knock Knock

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Years and all that! It's been a year. Thanks to Voidbean for the last minute beta. This was done to fill the prompt for New Year's Eve on the Holiday Bingo from the Isn't this Bromantic discord server.

There’s a knock at the door. 

Now having someone knock isn’t that unusual, but it is typically preceded by the buzz of the intercom letting him know someone is at the front of the building and needs to be let inside. Peter can only suspect that it’s one of his neighbours coming to complain about something, though it’s an odd time of night to do so. His neighbours love to find Peter at fault, but tonight he doesn’t have the energy to deal with it. 

Not today. Not on New Year's Eve of all days.

If he can just pretend he’s not home and wait them out, he can sneak out of the building and deal with this another day. Tonight he has a party to get to, and he wants to get there early enough to find someone willing to kiss him at midnight. 

He can’t go  _ another year _ without having someone to kiss. 

Listening carefully for the sound of retreating footsteps that never come, Peter starts to grow concerned. 

There’s another knock at the door.

Peter groans in frustration. He  _ really  _ doesn’t have time for this, he still needs to finish getting dressed. The knock comes again, louder and more insistent this time. Buttoning up the middle of his shirt, Peter heads for the door and cracks it open as far as the chain will allow. 

Immediately the assailant’s face is pressed into the opening, the bright red and black mask of none other than Deadpool trying to wiggle in through the narrow opening. 

“W-what?” Peter stutters as he stumbles back from the door, alarmed to see his alter-ego’s nuisance at his door. He doesn’t know how Deadpool found out who he is and where he lives. 

There’s the sound of creaking wood as Deadpool pushes at the door, the chain snaps allowing it to open the rest of the way. 

Deadpool stands there proudly, his arms splayed open like he just parted the red sea. He is wearing a tacky faded brown corduroy business suit over his regular mercenary one. The fit is a little  _ snug _ , the buttons straining to to keep the blazer closed over the width of Wade’s chest. The whole ensemble clashes horribly. 

“Good evening sir or madam, I am here to tell you about a  _ wonderful  _ new product! How many times do you find yourself having to go over the same spot when you vacuum?” Deadpool says with forced cheer as he reaches down to pick up a small compact vacuum off the floor. “With the Suckinator 3000, you only need to go over a spot once to get it clean! No more wasting the whole day vacuuming.” He makes a flourish with his free hand at the vacuum in his other, like he’s presenting a real marvel of an invention.

Peter stares back, his mouth gaping wide in shock. He’s not entirely certain he didn’t get sucked into the twilight zone. “I — don’t have carpets.”

Deadpool’s cheery demeanour falters as he finally takes a second to peer into Peter’s apartment and glance around to take in the peeling linoleum flooring. They stare at each other, caught in a stalemate of sorts before Deadpool finally speaks up, “I’m pretty sure you can vacuum any type of flooring. Plus it’s got this little hose attachment and it’s great for getting the crumbs out of your couch.”

“I don’t have a couch.”

“Bed then!” 

“Do I look like the kinda slob who eats in their bed?”

“I’m not sure how to answer that without insulting you.”

Peter clenches his jaw shut, his teeth grinding. He can feel the start of a headache forming. The only saving grace of this interaction is that it doesn’t seem like Deadpool knows who he is, and just happens to be in his neighbourhood doing the kind of thing he does when he isn’t bothering Spider-Man. “Well, I’m not interested in buying a vacuum. So if you could please take your awful attire to the next door the would be  _ swell _ .”

Deadpool glances down and back up. “I think it  _ suits  _ me.”

Peter groans and buries his face in his palms. “Please just leave me alone.”

“Wait!” Deadpool protests as he frantically digs around in his pockets. “Can I interest you in a stick of gum?”

Peter stares at the squished and faded wrapper in Deadpool’s outstretched hand in disgust. “How long has that been in your pocket?”

“It came with the suit…”

“Okay! I’ve had about enough of this,” snaps Peter before shoving Deadpool backwards and out the door. “Good luck in your career as a door to door salesman, but you need to  _ leave _ .”

Deadpool digs his heels into the ground and grips at the door frame, halting his departure. “But I never even got to do a demonstration!”

“Because no one has ever seen a vacuum in use before? Do I look that pathetic?”

“Again, I don’t know what you want me to say here.”

Narrowing his eyes, Peter gives one last shove that sends Deadpool tumbling backwards onto his ass in the hallway with a thump. The vacuum topples over, and they both watch as some of the attachments go sailing across the hallway floor. 

Deadpool starts to push himself up off the floor. Reacting in blind panic, Peter slams his door shut and braces himself against it. 

There is a soft knock against the door.

“Who is it?” Peter calls out, he can feel himself starting to sweat. This is worse than most of his nightmares.

“IRS, I need to see your tax returns.”

“I don’t file tax returns, I’m just a meat popsicle.”

There is a thud as Deadpool slumps against the door on the other side. “ _ Spidey,” _ he whines. “It’s New Years Eve, play with me.”

Peter inhales sharply, his hands go clammy. He forgets to exhale. He assumes he must have misheard. There is no way Deadpool knows who he is.

No. Way.

The moment draws on for what feels like eternity. Finally Peter figures out how to form words again. “No hablo inglés.”

There is a pause before the sound of Deadpool breaking out into laughter, his fist hammering down on the door. “Come on Spidey, can we just skip to the part where you invite me in?”

“QueKe?”

“ _ Spidey _ .”

Peter sighs and bangs the back of his head against the door. “How did you find me?”

“Oh, so you don’t remember?” Deadpool’s voice wavers over the question.

“Remember?” Try as he might, Peter has not the faintest clue what he could be talking about. 

“A month ago, after your fight with Rhino? You hit your head pretty hard, harder than I thought I guess. I thought it couldn't be  _ that  _ bad because you still managed to take him out, but you asked me to bring you home after. I tucked you into bed, brought you water. Made sure you didn’t fall asleep with a concussion.”

The blurry memory of someone holding his hand while Peter talked about painting his room pink comes back to him. He remembers talking about the canyons carved into Wade’s skin from rivers eroding him over time.  _ Wade _ . Deadpool had told him to call him Wade. He had run his fingers through Peter’s hair. “I thought that was a dream.”

“I guess I should be happy you didn’t say nightmare. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Peter wrenches the door open and grabs Wade’s wrist before he can leave. “Thanks for looking after me.”

“I’d do anything for you, I thought you knew that.” 

“I can’t be held responsible for what happens when I have a possible brain injury.”

Wade laughs, the tension draining from him. “I want you to remember that the next time I have a brain injury.”

“So I shouldn’t hold you to the promise of buying me a jacuzzi?”

Wade practically swoons and clutches at his heart. “Baby doll, you want a jacuzzi? You _got_ one. I bet you create a heavenly visage in swimming trunks, or do you like going _in the_ _buff_? You and me, the jets aimed right up the–”

“I get the idea! Please stop,” Peter pleads, holding up his hands in surrender. His face has gone warm and probably nuclear red with Wade’s suggestion. “I don’t need a jacuzzi.”

“Romantic bubble bath kinda guy, eh? Candles and wine. I can do that too.” 

“I don’t think we would fit together.”

“But you’d be willing?”

“You’re very persistent.”

“That’s not a  _ no _ .” 

Peter has to look away from Wade, scared that he will give himself away. He’s never been the best liar, not when people can see his face anyways. “I’m not climbing into any water with you, Wade.”

Leaning in close, Wade presses his index finger to the tip of Peter’s nose. “You’re so cute, how about you invite me in?”

Peter swallows down his nerves. “You want to come in?”

“I’d be delighted!” Wade pushes past Peter into the apartment, he stops in the middle of the room to take in the entirety of the place. 

Not that there is much to take in, just old laundry on the floor and stacks of books strewn across the desk. Peter is a little ashamed of how high the pile of dishes is in the sink.

Wade doesn’t seem deterred by the mess at all, in fact, he seems  _ delighted _ . It puts a fond smile on Peter's face.

Wade's eyes linger on the blazer Peter has laid out on top of his bed with the rest of his outfit. "You have somewhere you need to be?"

Peter hesitates before giving an answer. "I'm supposed to be going to this party…"

"I'll just make like a cockroach and scurry off then." Wade makes a beeline for the door.

"Actually," Peter says as he steps in the way of Wade leaving. "If you came with me you could save me from having to fend off someone else trying to kiss me at midnight."

"Someone else?"

"You don't want to kiss me at midnight?"

"We  _ seriously _ need to get your brain checked out if you're asking that."

Peter grins, he has a feeling the next year is going to be a good one.


End file.
